Day of my handsome hero
by Quiet Time
Summary: There's a day on Toshiko's calendar, circled in red.  A day where she gets to be the princess who wakes the sleeping prince.  Part of the 'Days' series but standalone.  BBC owns the characters and concepts within this fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1

**This first chapter is set pre 'To the Last Man'**

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><p>There's a day on Toshiko's calendar, circled in red. A special day, now.<p>

It makes Toshiko laugh at herself when she remembers how this special day didn't even warrant a spot on her calendar that first year at Torchwood. The prospect of reawakening someone from early last century didn't thrill Tosh nearly as much as finding a shiny new piece of technology, not back then. The Rift spat out people from the past regularly. If Tosh thought about it at all, it was usually to wonder why they couldn't just use the latest time refugee whenever the miraculous event finally occurred. If it ever did. Keeping someone on ice 'just in case' seemed vaguely cruel by comparison.

The fact that they could and would bring this mysterious someone back to life, if only for a day, was just another wonder in a life full of new discoveries. Just another necessity, arming the human race for a future she probably wouldn't live to see.

Then the day arrived. The stretcher rattled as Owen wheeled it into place, and Toshiko left her latest program running, not out of curiosity, but because she'd offered to help. She did that a lot, back then, just fore the chance to be near the sardonic doctor, the chance to impress him with her efficiency. Which was nicely ironic, because Toshiko hadn't given Owen a thought after Tommy woke up.

It was like a fairytale, only in reverse. The sleeping prince opened his eyes and if what happened next wasn't love at first sight, it was something damned close to it.

Tosh could still remember that smile, the first time Tommy eyes opened to see Toshiko sitting beside him, clipboard in hand. His lips curved and his eyes lit, and the task ahead, the day ahead, forever rewrote itself in Toshiko's mind. It wasn't about weapons, or tools, or technology. It was about humanity. One piece of humanity. One human. One man.

One young soldier, frozen in time. Called forth, once a year, because one day he'd be sent into battle and save the world. A hero in waiting. A handsome hero. _Her_ handsome hero.

A fairytale hero. Except this fairytale would never have a happily ever after. They'd have a single day together, and then the evil step-doctor would send the handsome prince back into slumber for another year.

A year during which Toshiko would alternate between pining for a man who didn't notice her and dreaming about a man who couldn't dream about her.

You didn't dream in cryosleep. Brain cells shut down, apparently.

And each year, she'd age and he wouldn't. A different fairytale. Tommy would wake, eternally young, eternally handsome. Peter Pan to her Wendy, until one day Toshiko would be too old for the fairy dust.

But that first time, with a handsome young man smiling at her, and that tightness around Owen's mouth that just _might _be jealousy, Toshiko decided one day was enough. One day out of reality. She had to fight the monsters every other day of the year, so why turn her back on the opportunity to play the princess, just this once?

As night fell, Toshiko sat at Tommy's bedside while Owen tightened the tourniquet and slid a needle into a vein. The smile slipped from Tommy's lips as the drugs took hold, but Toshiko kept her own smile steady until his eyes closed, and held his hand until the fingers went limp between her own. And when Tosh got home that night, she flipped to the back of her calendar, where next year was printed in miniature, and painted a single day red.

That night, she didn't dream of impossibilities with Owen. She didn't need fantasy anymore.

In the depths where Torchwood didn't see, Toshiko's sleeping mind replayed their last, whispered conversation.

"_Same time next year?"_

"_It's a date."_

"_See you tomorrow, then!"_

Toshiko smiled in her sleep. If there _were_ dreams in cryosleep, they had a dream to share. A memory. A promise. Until next year, or tomorrow.

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again. I know Tosh/Tommy is basically a tragedy, but I thought they should have some fun first, so this fic will continue to be lighthearted. Hope you enjoy**

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><p>The second year, Jack let her take Tommy out of the Hub. Their first date, Tommy said, blushing and sweet and so very <em>young<em>. Too young, perhaps. Too young for a jaded, slightly-broken twenty-first century woman. It was something of a relief that gentleman of his era didn't kiss on first dates. She would have at least a year to work herself up to it.

It was all very romantic. Tommy was so young, so brave, so handsome. And just scared enough to make what he was doing all the more admirable. He really was a hero. Her hero.

Tosh was awfully glad Owen couldn't hear as she leaned over Tommy to exchange goodbye-whispers.

"_See you tomorrow, Toshiko?"_

"_Every day will be a year, until then."_

If Owen had heard _that_, he'd tease her for weeks. It meant he'd be talking to her, though.

Tosh put the rather pathetic thought aside and hurried to ask Owen something before he vanished for the night.

"Yeah it'll still be the same date, Tosh. 'Once a year on this date', the order says, and that's exactly what he'll get. The date might be important somehow. And it's no big deal. It's not like we get weekends off in Torchwood, is it?"

Tosh didn't even notice the way Owen glowered at her as she floated out of the Hub. And she didn't even drop her bag before turning to the back of her calendar again.

-XXX-

It turned out that gentlemen from 1918 didn't kiss on second dates, either. Which meant Tosh had another year to work up to it. Another year to decide whether this was insane. Tommy was either too young for her, biologically, or half-a-century too old if you went by the year on his birth certificate.

But they did hold hands, that third year, that second date. Tosh considered it something of a triumph in retrospect, not that she'd really thought about it at the time. They'd gone to a carnival, and Tommy's eyes were wide with the wonder of it, the flashing lights and the wonders of engineering right there for anyone to use. So they held hands as they screamed their way through the roller coaster.

Apparently public displays of affection were considered quite daring in 1918. Tantamount to a statement of intent, as Jack informed her when the rest of the team was teasing her about it. It turned out they'd been tracking her on the CCTV. Tosh hadn't realized how hard she could blush. The carnival _was_ fun though. And holding hands with Tommy was worth a blush or six.

As Tommy's eyes fluttered closed again, Tosh found herself hoping that all the junk food wouldn't give him a year-long stomachache.

Though if you couldn't dream in cryosleep, it stood to reason you couldn't feel pain, either.

And it would only be one day, for him.

"_I'll dream about you tonight, Toshiko."_

"_I'll dream about you all year."_

-XXX-

The third date was approaching. Just days away. And this year was going to be different from the others, because Tosh was different. So much had happened this year, and she'd changed.

For instance, all this time Tosh had been waiting patiently for Owen to notice her, and then Gwen arrived. She'd got her feet under that particular table with impressive speed and left Tosh contemplating the folly of all good things coming to those who wait.

Then there was Mary. Admittedly, that hadn't ended well, but it did teach Tosh a thing or two about taking a risk. It_ was_ better to love and lose than to never have it at all. And there was the …. Um….other thing, too. Mary might have been bent on destroying the world, but in the process of converting Toshiko into her weapon of choice, she'd brought a formerly slumbering libido out of hibernation. Which wasn't quite ready to go back to sleep, especially given the prospect of an encounter with a handsome young soldier.

The day she flipped the calendar over to June, Tosh decided she was fed up of wasting time. She was going to Seize The Day, in capitals. And if that involved seizing Tommy…hmmmm. Oh yes, Tosh was different to the woman Tommy had gone to the carnival with, last year. She was hoping to hold more than his hand, this time.

It would be their third date, after all. Tosh didn't know what that signified for relationships in the early 20th century, but she certainly knew what it meant in the here and now. And if Tommy was willing, Tosh would be happy to introduce him to the modern world of relationships.

She didn't want to spook him, though, or leave him thinking she was the wrong kind of girl. This would take careful planning. Good thing Tosh had someone to plan with, this year. Her partner in crime, in more ways than one.

When Jack sent Ianto in to talk to her after Mary, Tosh couldn't decide whether it was unexpectedly tactful of him, or totally callous. Tactful, because Ianto had intimate knowledge of how it felt to have Jack execute your homicidal other-half. Callous because, well, how dare Jack make Ianto relive that? Then again, Jack didn't know about the rats.

By the end of the session, Tosh concluded Jack was both tactful _and_ callous, along with exceptionally sneaky. Their discussion did hurt Ianto, but it helped him as much as it helped Tosh. He hadn't had anyone to talk to either. At least, no-one who understood.

As for sneaky – well, let it be said that Tosh and Ianto discovered common ground apart from the whole 'Jack executed my alien-possessed genocidal lover' thing. Because Tosh was also coming to terms with her first same-sex encounter – and Ianto was contemplating his.

You couldn't _not _be friends with someone after that sort of bonding session. Ianto and Tosh became instant best friends and confidantes. Jack had plenty of time to contemplate the results of his sneakiness, because it was days before Tosh could keep a straight face when she was around him. Every time she looked at Jack, she remembered Ianto's descriptions of Jack's not-so-subtle attempts on the younger man's virtue. And really, the man claimed to have class!

Jack looked relieved and surprised by turns, but he didn't comment. Ianto reported that Jack was confused by Tosh's reaction, but relieved to escape the expected week of death-glares, given his guilt at what he'd done to Mary.

The day after Suzie died – for the second and final time – Owen spent a large portion of the morning complaining about how crass it was of Jack to be swanning around looking so damned pleased with himself. At which Tosh caught Ianto's eye and looked away before she giggled. They'd be having a long talk, later, but she strongly suspected Jack's sneakiness had borne fruit.

Jack caught the exchange, and his expression turned from smug to suspicious. Shortly after, when Tosh and Ianto were snorting out their hysteria in the kitchen, Jack could be heard stomping around the Hub while Owen congratulated him on more seemly behavior.

Ianto and Tosh laughed harder. One down, one to go, on their shared mental checklist. After work, they went shopping for the outfit Tosh would wear the next time they woke Tommy.

It would be the third date. Everything Had Changed. Tosh was planning to Seize The Day.

**Thanks for reading**


	3. Chapter 3

**It's impossible to keep this light, given how it ended, (grumble grumble why doesn't Tosh EVER get a happy ending?) but I've tried to make it hopeful, at least.**

_There's a paragraph towards the end that probably won't make much sense if you haven't read 'Day of Vodka and Velvet', but it shouldn't be enough to ruin the whole story for you. (I hope)._

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><p>Gentlemen from 1918 did a hell of a lot more than kiss on third dates.<p>

It was funny, in retrospect, not that Tosh felt much like laughing as she guarded Tommy's sleep. Each breath chimed like struck crystal in the silence, filling her ears with the sound of life. Each breath signaled a new battle against the temptation to wake him, to see him smile, to feel his touch. Sleep felt like such a waste of the few precious hours they had left. And yet, Tommy hadn't had the pleasure of real sleep in so long, hadn't had a chance to dream, and Tosh couldn't deprive him of that, either. So Tosh lay on her side, watching her hero sleep, replaying what was possibly the best day of her life.

Tears pressed against her eyes, but Tosh smiled through them as she remembered sitting side by side on the pier, talking about nothing much while she tried desperately to decide which of her pre-rehearsed lines was least likely to send him fleeing in disgust. And she remembered herself rendered speechless – in the best possible way - as Tommy swooped in for a brief, slightly clumsy, but absolutely breathtaking kiss. Their first kiss.

Their first kiss. Innocent and sensual and perfect. Pure, if an action that left her drunk with desire could possibly be considered pure. But the perfection of the moment left Tosh feeling shabby by comparison. Guilty that she'd been ruthlessly planning to take advantage of her brave and beautiful boy.

Only to find he'd been doing the same thing. To hell with guilt. Tosh had just been offered a taste of heaven.

Of course Torchwood had to ruin it.

Tommy murmured in his sleep and Tosh trailed a single finger along his brow, smoothing away the tiny lines trying to form there. Even asleep and unaware, Tommy's face turned towards her touch, and Tosh's heart beat and broke, beat and broke.

Where was the silver lining in the cloud hanging over her bed? Where was the sweet to balance the bitter? Tomorrow he would leave for his own time, to his destiny. Tomorrow the fairytale would end. The sleeping prince would wake and leave to save the world, but there'd be no happy ever after.

Perhaps, Tosh mused, perhaps it was the threat of tomorrow which made tonight so precious. Perhaps tonight's treasure lay in its tragedy. Maybe the wonder of each second existed only because of what the morning would bring. It was something to think about, at least. Something to hold on to, when Tommy was gone and there was no point in rushing to the calendar anymore.

And yet, Tosh's soul cried out in protest. It could have been so perfect. _They_ could have been perfect. But they only had tonight. One night, stolen from reality. Tosh's eyes smarted, from unshed tears and the foolish way she tried to fight against blinking. But they only had tonight, to sleep and wake and love. A few meager hours to grasp each moment and squeeze it for every drop of joy. One night, what remained of it, and Tosh didn't want to close her eyes in case she lost the battle against sleep, losing hours instead of seconds.

Tosh yawned, and blinked, and stared again, sealing each moment in amber to store in her memory forever.

Somewhere near the floor, her phone flashed. She'd promised not to turn it off, but she'd rebelled sufficiently to put it on silent.

Tosh stretched out an arm and captured the offending instrument. A message. A message from Ianto. Ianto, her friend and co-conspirator. The only one for whom she would break her vigil over Tommy's sleep.

Tosh crept soundlessly from the bed, stopping at a point near enough that she could still watch Tommy, far enough that the sound of her voice wouldn't wake him, and called Ianto.

"Are you all right, Tosh?"

From anyone else, it would have been a stupid question. Of course she wasn't. But the concern beneath the words soothed Tosh's wounded soul, and she knew that was why he'd called. She _wasn't_ all right, alone, with Tommy sleeping away their seconds. But she wasn't alone now. She had a lifeline on the other end of the line. This call was what Tosh needed to remind her she wouldn't be alone tomorrow either.

"I'm good," Tosh answered. And she was, now. Perspective shifted, balanced. Tonight was good. All good. Tomorrow would be different, but she'd been making a mistake to let tomorrow bleed into tonight.

"How's Tommy?" Ianto asked next.

Against all likelihood, Tosh smiled. With her lips _and _her voice.

"He's good, too," Tosh said. "He's asleep."

Ianto's low chuckle echoed in her ear, showing Tosh he'd understood the words she hadn't spoken, too. "So is _he_," Ianto replied.

Tosh didn't have to ask who _he_ was. She knew. Tosh smiled again, and found that she could laugh, as well. Softly, so as not to wake Tommy. But laughter, yes. Because tonight was good, and she'd lost sight of that, through trying to see too much.

It appeared tonight had another gift to give. A gift to both of them. The gift of clarity. An end to confusion. She and Ianto would have to find something else to occupy them over pizza and beer. Or Chinese and wine. Or sushi and champagne. Something to fill their nights other than discussing the confusion of their sexual identities. Because Tosh wasn't confused anymore, and Ianto didn't sound confused either.

"Hey Ianto," she whispered.

"Yes Tosh?"

"I'm so not gay." Not strictly true. Memories of Mary still lit a fire in Tosh's veins. But not tonight. Not with Tommy. Ianto would understand.

Ianto chuckled softly. "Hey Tosh?"

"Yes Ianto?"

"I so am." Not strictly true either. But again, true for tonight. True for now. True for Ianto, with Jack.

Tommy stirred in his sleep, perhaps roused by the laughter Tosh couldn't hold back anymore.

Tomorrow would break Toshiko's heart. Tomorrow Jack might break Ianto's heart, or mend it. Or Ianto might break Jack's heart, because it's hard to be careful with something you don't know you've been given. Tomorrow Owen would continue to pretend he didn't have a heart at all, while Gwen wore hers on her sleeve when she could have left it safely home in Rhys' caring hands.

But tomorrow was a world away from tonight. They'd deal with tomorrow when it happened. Tosh whispered her goodbyes, tossed the phone aside and scrambled back into bed, into warm arms and a sleepy embrace.

"Nice dreams?" she asked, drinking in the face beside her. Sipping, savoring a priceless vintage, not gulping greedily from an oasis.

"So nice," Tommy assured her, his voice thick with fatigue. "About you."

Tear prickled Tosh's eyes. Good tears. She blinked them away before Tommy could see, while Tommy tried to blink himself awake. Tosh leaned over and kissed his eyelids closed again. He'd been dreaming. No dreams in cryo-sleep. Tommy deserved this chance to dream and Tosh didn't need him to wake up anymore. She didn't need to drain the rest of their moments by wringing them dry. This was enough. This was perfect. Her lips moved from eyes to forehead.

"Let's go back to sleep, Tommy," Tosh murmured. She didn't need to fight her own sleep any more, either. After all, if she didn't sleep, she couldn't wake in the arms of the man she loved.

**Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed.**


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